


We Hit the Jackpot, Baby

by 3minswriting



Category: NU'EST
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Rating May Change, says 'may' - its definitely gonna change LMAO, tags will be updated as chapters progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:41:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23921743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3minswriting/pseuds/3minswriting
Summary: Dongho didn’t need to make luck happen; he was born lucky.At least that’s what he thought, until he met Hwang Minhyun.or, the harem Baekho fic no one asked for but welp here we go
Relationships: Choi Minki | Ren/Kang Dongho | Baekho
Comments: 17
Kudos: 39





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for stopping by. this is gonna be some slow burn(?) long con probably definitely harem baekho feels bcs he's best boy and all the love is what he deserves. 
> 
> pairings will update as we go along and it'll probs be ooc as i'm still learning.
> 
> let's have fun!

Dongho was not a superstitious man. That wasn't to say that he didn't believe in luck (or the fickle Gods that gave and took such a thing in unequal measures), because he did. But he didn't believe in those old wive's tales - he wasn't frightened of black cats or broken mirrors, didn't have a problem with any numbers, didn't believing in jinxing or that talking about someone three times would make them suddenly appear. All those things, as far as he was concerned, were nonsense, same as the “Law of Attraction” and doing things like wearing colours or keeping a talisman of some kind to increase luck.

He did consider himself a relatively lucky person - things always seemed to work out for him in the end despite setbacks, and he’d never really had much in his life go too far wrong. For example, Dongho had gotten into his fair share of scrapes as a kid: he’d fallen out of trees, he’d slipped into a rushing river when he was fishing, and gotten lost countless times when his curiosity of where a trail went got the best of him. But all of these resulted in nothing more than harmless scratches or a panicked parent or two – he was fine. And - perhaps naively – he maintained a belief that things would always _be_ fine, so taking extra steps or making big, detailed plans were uneccesary.

It stressed his parents out, especially when he decided to leave their quiet farm on their quiet island home to try his luck in the big city. Not with any particular aspirations, really it was just to try something different.

“But what will you do there, sweetie?” His mother asked.

“Find a job I guess.” Dongho shrugged, looking up from the screenshot of his flight itinerary on his phone and shot a cheerful smile at her. “Somewhere’ll take me. Seoul’s a big place, I bet there’s lots out there.”

“Where will you stay?”

“I dunno. With friends until I find something solid.”

So Dongho packed a bag and all his savings, kissed his mother goodbye, hugged his father, and got on the sunrise flight that would change his life forever.

Of course, things worked out fine, because Dongho was a lucky guy. His first few nights were rough – finding a permanent place to sleep wasn’t easy but it wasn’t impossible. He couch-surfed at a few of his cousins’ houses and caught up with old high-school friends who had made the move several years ago for university. Most hours that first week while waiting to hear back from recruiters, Dongho spent wandering the busy streets, half-lost, totally awed by the pace, the crowds, and the tall buildings that clustered together like gossiping aunts at a shotgun wedding reception.

He had heard all of the rumours and listened patiently when his relatives warned him about Seoul, “ _It’s not like here, Dongho, the people are cruel, no one has time to help anyone. There’s no soul in big cities and they’ll suck all the goodness right out of you if you’re not careful._ ”

But those worries were probably, Dongho reasoned, fear talking from the suspicions of those who had never stepped beyond the safe borders of their home. Seoul was good to him and luck was on his side. His cousin Eunbi called him that Wednesday morning and asked if he was still looking for a job.

“Yeah, how come?” Dongho’s shoulders lifted in hope.

“Do you like coffee?”

“Yeah.”

“Know how to make it?”

“Nope.” He chuckled, “But I can learn.”

And just like that on Thursday, Dongho turned up for his first barista shift at Eunbi’s boyfriend’s father’s café.

He had a job. Maybe it was only casual, maybe it didn’t pay a whole lot, but it was work and he had somewhere to be every morning.

Kang Dongho was officially Making It.

Life might not have been perfect that first week, but it was going well.

-

Work at the café was fun. It was a quiet spot on a rather busy street, and the façade was stacked daily with fresh flower boxes and a scattering of white fold out tables out front. Every shift Dongho started the early morning by carrying out the flower boxes onto the street; then the tables and chairs. The first few times one of his noona colleagues needed give him directions on how to arrange it (decorating had never been Dongho’s strong point but he followed instructions well). Once the front was ready for customers, Dongho rolled up his sleeves, put on his white apron and took to the counter to make coffees. Bleary-eyed students, impatient office workers, and exhausted mothers all begin lining up to get their fix from opening at 6am. Dongho served them all with a smile.

The thousand-doller espresso machine was a chrome monstrosity that dominated the otherwise quaint cottage-style interior, but Dongho happily commited himself to learning its language; the hiss of steam and the purrs of frothed milk became as natural to his ears as the happy chatter of colleagues and customers. He made mistakes, of course. Got more than a few coffees returned. All attempts at froth art were…disasters (or modern art masterpieces, depending on your aesthetic). He also accepted complaints from aggressive customers on behalf of his female colleagues because he’d learned from a young age that people were less brave yelling in a face that looked like his than they were at a girl’s. And he knew how to make himself look menacing – sleeves rolled up to his wide shoulders, exposing his biceps sculpted from years of helping at the tangerine farm, tendrils of tattoos visible through his white shirt, and thick brows knotted in annoyance. Luckily, like he himself was, all those difficult people were all bark, no bite. He knew he’d be in trouble if a bite came.

It never did.

Not until Dongho met _him_.

See, Seoul life had been going fine, steady up until that point. But Dongho still didn’t earn enough to move completely out on his own or with a single roommate, so he kept looking for a second job. Lucky man that he was, the second job literally walked up to his face on a cool February morning at five a.m.

Dongho had been setting up at the front of the café when a sleek black car pulled up. He barely glanced at the car – you could tell it cost more won than probably the entire café, and it was rare to see something like that in this neighbourhood – because it was still dark and he had work to do. He didn’t think much of it, daydreaming and humming a song as he snapped table legs in place and carefully put the finishing touches of little mason jar bouquets on each.

He would have been completely unaware of anything happening at all, being so involved in his duties, except that a soft voice interrupted him.

“This place do coffee?”

“Yeah, absolutely.” Dongho replied automatically. He was crouched down to fix a wobbly table leg. Damn things never liked to stay put. 

“Soy caramel macchiato. No sugar. To go.” That was it. No ‘please’. No ‘when are you open’, no ‘did you need a hand’ (he didn’t, but being _polite_ never hurt, so his parents always said). Just a rude command from some guy off the street in the middle of the early morning when they were clearly _not open_. 

Dongho’s fingers tensed around the fake wood. _Polite_ , he reminded himself as he finished his task and recited in the sweetest passive-aggressive customer service tone he could muster when he hadn’t even had his own coffee yet, “As you can see, we are not open yet sir. But if-”

“Coffee. Now. Make it quick.”

This _guy_. Dongho huffed, finally standing and dusting his palms off on his apron front. He was about to let this guy have it (politely, of course), because really it was too early in the morning to have such an attitude problem.

The moment he saw the stranger’s face, however, it all made sense.

If he had a face like that, Dongho conceded, he’d probably act like an utter wanker too.

 _Beautiful_. It was the only word that came close to describing the stranger’s huge round eyes, full cheeks, a fringe of cherubesque chocolate curls complete with a matching bow of angelic lips which were thinned to an impatient line. Dressed in a sleek black, long coat, there were sparkles of a glitter-speckled white shirt collar peeking through. He looked like he’d stepped out of a magazine shoot – or _an expensive as hell car,_ Dongho mentally corrected himself as he glanced over at the parked vehicle nearby, and straightened in surprise when he saw that someone was waiting for the stranger, hands hidden deep in the folds of his charcoal suit and wearing sunglasses even though it was practically as dark as night.

Dongho couldn’t help it. He giggled as he looked between the haughty beauty and the bodyguard. “If your buddy took off his glasses he might be able to tell you its still dark. We’re not open, _sir_.”

The beauty’s eyes widened, flashing with surprise, anger? Dongho smiled sweetly either way.

“A-are you refusing me? _Me?_ ” So it _was_ surprise in those gorgeous eyes, Dongho realised.

“I’m _suggesting_.” Dongho replied, “That you look somewhere else that’s open if you want a coffee.”

“Unbelieveable!” As the stranger’s pitch rose an octave, the bodyguard started making his way around the car to approach. Dongho’s eyes followed him for a few seconds until he was asked, “Do you know who I am?”

“You’re a weirdo asking for coffee from a closed shop at five in the morning?” Dongho replied innocently, walking back to finish tucking in chairs. When the stranger seemed rooted to the spot and was still staring at him, he asked a bit more kindly to remind him, “Uh, weren’t you in a rush? Or something?”

“W-what would you-,” The stranger seemed to start waking up from his shock, hissing even as the shorter bodyguard had begun ushering him back to the awaiting luxury of the car and muttering what kind of sounded to Dongho like the way a terrified trainer might try soothing an angry Chihuahua; the mental image alone make him stifle a snort. The rich stranger was having none of it, snapping loudly at the bodyguard, “Alright I’m getting in Aron, _god_.” An impatient slap-- “Don’t touch me.” and slid elegantly back into the car.

Dongho didn’t spare a glimpse as the car door was clicked shut and the engine rumbled back to life. He thought it was over and the odd beauty was going to leave and go to god knows wherever stunning angels like that lived – somewhere far beyond Dongho’s comprehension, and he was honestly glad for it - until as the car pulled away, the shrill voice barked out,

“You! What’s your name!?”

Dongho cocked his head to the side. He didn’t need to give a name.

Maybe he shouldn’t have. If he hadn’t, then maybe it might really have ended there.

His life would have been a lot less complicated.

But his lips parted, half-way between a giggling laugh and a shout, he replied,

“Maybe if you asked nicely, I might tell you!”


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mv teaser got me all tied up rEN YOU-- 
> 
> i cant handle it here just roll the gd film i'm out

After that bizarre start to his morning, his manager Raina had asked what all the noise had been about outside and if he was alright.

“Yeah just some guy wanted coffee.” Dongho shrugged it off. “I told him we were closed.”

In fact the entire incident had slipped his mind until about ten-thirty. He was knee-deep in the weeds with the rest of his colleagues in the daily brunch rush; the entire café was crowded with the university students from across the road having finished their morning classes and now migrating to complete their procrastination and bitching sessions over espresso and pastries. Servers darted over the café floor with their hands constantly full, the lineup at the coffee machine was out the door, and the soothing jazz track filtering through bubbling conversations was accompanied by Dongho’s cheerful humming as he steamed milk and muttered impromptu song lyrics under his breath. He liked being busy, and now that he was good enough at his job, he could afford to let his concentration flicker and talk to his colleagues in between delivering piping hot coffees to caffeine-starved customers.

“Um, Baekho?” He felt a light tap on his shoulder, though he’d already gotten used to answering to the name one of his noona colleagues had given him the first time she saw him handle a difficult customer for his dongsaeng Kaeun. “There’s..a customer asking for you to make their order.”

“Sure Nayoung, won’t be a sec they’ll have to wait I’m almossss-t-,” Dongho’s tongue peeked out between his lips in utter concentration as he poured hot liquid into the cyan mug. He frowned at the misshapen swan that gracelessly flopped over the foam top in front of him. _Hm._ Maybe if he used some cocoa powder to cover it up..

Beside him and his failed creation, Nayoung giggled and patted his shoulder. “Ok, but I don’t think you should keep him waiting he’s-,”

“ 'Baekho,’ was it?” An unfamiliar male voice called out over the surrounding noise behind Dongho. “I like the sound of that. It suits you. Hi Tiger.”

Dongho turned around to face the counter, hands offering his finished product to an awaiting colleague’s outstretched tray. He nearly dropped it – thank god for Hoshi’s reflexes saving the day – when he saw who was leaning with his elbows on the bar, angelic face practically sparkling with a devil’s smirk.

“Hey, weirdo.” Dongho greeted casually without thinking. “You’re back.” Every one of his nearby colleagues gasped in mortification (Joshua laughed, but Joshua had the habit of laughing at a lot of things Dongho said, and he’d grown used to it that it didn’t even register anymore). No one seemed more mortified than the angel at the bar, whose smirk was wiped away with a shocked cough.

“Excuse me?” He seemed to be wheezing, and Dongho cocked his head to the side and reached for a clean glass to fill with water. “I’m not a weirdo- you’re the weirdo, don’t give me stupid nicknames.”

“Ok.” Dongho pushed the glass of water over, which was accepted with a haughty sniff and clasping pale fingers clad with sparkling rings of opal and silver. Each one was probably worth an entire house in Dongho’s hometown neighbourhood, but none glittered quite so spectacularly as the eyes glaring at him when he pointed out (quite rightfully, Dongho felt), “but you gave me one first.”

“I did not, besides Tiger is a good name for you. Tigers are big. Angry. You should be grateful I’m even here talking to you in this-,” The stranger wrinkled his upturned nose at the bustling café. “-place.” It sounded like a synonym for ‘sewer’ when he said it.

“Which you came back to.” Dongho said calmly, ignoring Yuha’s tapping his hip with her own when she squeezed past, a silent communication to check if he needed her to get the manager. “Didn’t you order something?” He held out a hand for the order receipt.

The man stared at his hand, then his golden brown eyes. Slowly, like the unravelling of carefully made plans when calamity struck, that haughty look returned on the angelic face in front of him. “Yes. I want you to make me a coffee – caramel macchiato. Soy. Decaffeinated. No sugar.”

“Mhm.” Dongho wasn’t daunted by the order; it was relatively simple compared to what he’d been exposed to from day one. “Order number?”

“What number?”

“Your receipt?” Dongho added when realising this guy really had no clue whatsoever, it was kind of cute. Kind of like a venomless snake..that still had fangs. Ok not quite so cute.

“What are you talking about? I’m not _paying_ -,” The angel started in surprise.

“Then you know the way out.” Dongho shrugged, waving to the door in case the guy _didn’t_ know the way out, because he really seemed rather clueless. He turned around to assist paying customers by making coffees for their paid orders.

“Hold on-,” A hand latched onto the bow of his apron strings dangling near the small of his back, hooking him and tugging him towards the counter.

Dongho instantly tensed. He whirled around, but the stranger’s hands were still tangled in the strings, his taller body stretched over the counter and none of Dongho’s colleagues seemed to be saying anything, in fact they were all hanging back. That in itself was rather strange because normally his noonas were protective of him and stepped in the moment someone even raised their voice. It caught Dongho offguard. Moreso when the stranger’s tone switched back to a sweet one, as if _he_ was the one who was clueless and didn’t understand the basic principles of a capitalist society where money was exchanged for goods and services, like the ordering of a coffee.

“Listen Tiger, I don’t think you understand how this works. I’m Choi Mingi. And when I want something, I expect it to be done. Immediately.”

Dongho carefully placed a hand on the wrist close to his hip. For a man who looked more like he would be at home on a catwalk or on display at a museum, this Choi Mingi had a heck of a grip. The hold didn’t loosen, but neither did Dongho’s.

“Listen, Choi Mingi. I don’t think _you_ understand how this works.”

He gave a sharp tug and both hand and the apron tie came undone, hovering freely over the counter when Dongho let go gently. He couldn’t quite bring himself to be afraid of whoever this angel was; not because of his beauty, not because he looked like he was the same age as him, or whatever he thought the power of announcing his name brought, but simply because Mingi didn’t give off the sense that he wanted to fight; to Dongho, it was rather obvious that all Mingi wanted was a decaffeinated soy caramel macchiato with no sugar and to be in charge. Both of those things Dongho was certain that Mingi could find at any other establishment- just not this one if he expected it for free.

“If you want a coffee, you get in line.” Dongho pointed out the line. “Then you pay for it at the register.” Then pointed at the nervous Roa punching in keys at the register. “Then you wait like everyone else and when it’s ready, someone will call out your name and you’ll get your coffee.”

It was only when he finished speaking that Dongho had noticed something unusual – the entire café was quiet. All attention was on this act playing out in front of dozens of customers and staff. Choi Mingi was silent for a few agonising seconds, jaw hanging open, fingers dumbly attached to the cotton strings as he seemed to be looking for something in Dongho’s face. It was becoming rather ridiculous, so much so that Dongho felt sweat starting to collect at his nape from the tension.

Then Mingi burst into bright laughter, slim shoulders shaking under his immaculate _Yves Saint-Laurent_ jacket. That lone sound burst the bubble of tension in the air. He dropped Dongho’s apron string and leaned back to his side of the counter. “Alright Tiger, I’ll do it your way this time. But I want you to make it for me.”

Dongho smiled, eyes crinkling as they were overwhelmed by his cheeks. “That I can do.”

The storm had passed, at least that’s what Dongho felt. He went back to his duties, humming along with the music as he pumped out more orders, the familiar sounds of café life slowly restoring. He did hear Choi Mingi making his order and the _beep_ of the machine accepting his black credit card, and found himself smiling for approximately two seconds until he was faced with yet another misshapen coffee flourish – it was meant to be a leaf, but Dongho had not mastered it either, and covered it again with a few taps of powdered cocoa.

There were no other kerfuffles, no dramas, and Dongho called out, “Soy macchiato for Ren?” looking around for the owner of the drink in the crowd of those waiting. To his surprise it was Choi Mingi who strode forward, fingers wrapping around Dongho’s as he accepted the hot paper cup.

“Ah, so that’s what it sounds like when you say it. Softer than I expected.” Mingi raised his eyebrows.

“Huh?” Dongho didn’t quite understand, and heat began to collect at the back of his neck as the strange guy forced him to keep holding onto the coffee under his cool palms (he wasn’t about to drop it, no way, no lawsuits here, not on Kang Dongho’s watch).

“You’re actually cuter than you look, Tiger.” Dark lashes fluttered dangerously, a calculated expression too sweet for most to resist. The descriptor 'cute' would normally have made him protest (he worked out! he had muscles! see these guns? he could probably carry four grown men on his back what do you mean 'cute'?) but Dongho was too busy wondering if he could suffer third degree burns through cardboard. His fingers wriggled uncomfortably. Choi Mingi did not seem not notice his discomfort, sharp eyes boring into golden brown. “Come work for me, I could use a guy like you.”

“Work?” Dongho heard only one word out of the entire sentence spoken to him as his hands slowly melted from extreme heat exposure. Which was lucky, because it was in fact the most important word in there. “Sure, I’m looking for work. Only nights though. I still have to open up here.”

He let out a relieved sigh as Mingi beamed and delicately removed the cup from his grip. The second his stinging hands were free, Dongho cooled his skin by placing his hands on the back of his neck, lacing his fingers together loosely.

“Then it's settled.” Mingi nodded, seemingly satisfied to have his way. His attention swerved to one of the other baristas, Joshua, flicking the tip of his nose at him and raising his chin. “I’m sure you know the address. Tell him.” To Dongho he added, “See you at seven.” Then strode elegantly out of the café, with every eye except Dongho’s following him as he did.

“What a weirdo.” Dongho chuckled, shaking his head as he returned to rinse his hands under cool water.

“Dude, don’t you know who that was?” Joshua hissed. The rest of the team nearby crowded in as well until Dongho, frightened by their glares, shrank against the counter.

“Y-yeah? He’s the guy I was telling you about from this morning. You know, wanted a coffee at five a.m. and we weren’t open?”

“Oh my god. You’re an idiot.” Woozi muttered, and beside him Roa kindly pointed out that Dongho had only been in Seoul for only a few months and literally lived on a tangerine farm before that so it shouldn’t be that surprising he doesn’t know.

“Know what?” Dongho’s eyes darted between the grumpy faces of his colleagues as they all talked amongst each other.

“Yah! Baekho! What the hell?” Raina came in from the back storeroom, just having finished taking inventory the last fifteen minutes. The moment she was close enough she slapped Dongho’s bicep, making him cower more. “Why didn’t you tell me Choi Mingi was here this morning? I would have opened up the shop! Hell, if he’d wanted the tables and chairs you should have given that to him too! Seriously Baekho, what were you thinking? Next time he comes in you give him whatever he asks for.”

“But why?” Dongho was starting to get a sinking feeling in his gut. Was it the café owner’s eldest son, or something? No one answered his question because Joshua piped up to fill in their manager,

“Not only did Baekho make him pay for his own drink, get this- Choi offered Baekho a job.”

“He WHAT?!”

And that was how Kang Dongho managed to secure his second job.

**Author's Note:**

> comments/kudos are greatly appreciated :'3 
> 
> fic twt @3minswriting


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